I Murmur My Words (DISCLAIMER: WILL NOT UPDATE)

I'm not pretty. But that's the outside.

I'm not the smartest, but who are you to judge?

I'm different. That doesn't mean I should be treated differently.

I'm not a hero, but I've done lots of things.

I'm not the best... but again, I am decent.

I'm a believer. You should be one, too.

I'm not a princess. But I'm brave and smart like one.

I'm a different race. Aren't we all different?

I'm not the same. That shows I'm unique.

I'm not a comedian, but I could be funny.

I'm not the most talented. But I do have one.

I'm sometimes mean. We can't be nice all the time.

I'm not the best to stick up, but I do at least try.

I'm a person who tries to keep my emotions. Isn't that good?

I'm not cool. But I shouldn't be bullied for that.

I'm considerate. Isn't that enough?

I'm not that good at everything. That's what makes me normal.

I'm not perfect. No one is.

Prologue

I just get in my own way.

Don't I?

_

"Your name?"

"Eve... Evemary. I attend this school, too." Her voice was fragile, like sheer, crystal-clear glass. With just one touch, it can fall apart.

"What's in your backpack?" Her voice leaped around the halls, landing heavily, creating a thud every now and then.

"J-Just the usual. Really, that's all! Two text-books... you know, the ones that were assigned for us to use tonight! Social Studies and Math if I have to be precise... and a couple of pencils and pens... all packed up in a pencil case that my mother gave me when I was young. And many folders! That's all I have, really!"

There the girl stood, shaking, petrified by their voices. Along with the kids who were sauntering across the quiet, shallow hallways. Though, there a boy walked, his bare hands stiff as he pulled on the girl's strand of hair. She let out a yelp, clenching her fingers in her palm, holding them together. Tears began to cataract in her eyes, causing the light to reflect against them. The girl who stood in front of her, her arms crossed against her chest, a 'complacent' look beginning to spread across her face, took a step across the hall as the heal began to hit every tile, and soon, without warning, her tanned hand pounced on the zipper, gripping it hard, making sure her grip was sturdy enough.

The girl's rusty, overused backpack's zipper teeth pushed through the two top holes on the zipper slider, creating a sudden feel of vibration. "What are you doing?!" Eve asked frantically, tossing her hands behind, attempting to take the girl's hands out of her backpack. "You don't own the place! Do us all a favor and just stop being such a pain to everyone!" her soft, attempt at a yell turned into a solid, firece savage shout.

Sudden gasps followed the trail. "Sticking up for yourself. Wrong choice." The girl stood, smiling smug, gravely, even. The violated girl accomplished to get the girl's hands away, but unfortunately, the other had accomplished as well. It was far too late. The immorality-filled girl had found her 'journal' filled with various of 'private' stuff.

Though, the journal was turned into a sketch-book; Allowing Eve to be able to express her emotions and what she feels inside through the work that we call 'art'. Some pages had various of flower, some even landscapes and views of the outside world we live in today. Even some pages held problems that we, the people, were facing. Like the political problems, economic problems, many more that held such deep meanings. However, some parts of the composed artworks were shaded very dull; Almost resembling a 'dark' gray. Like the gray you see that fills up the skies near factories. Others were shaded much more lightly, as if the tip of the led did not even reach the exteriror of the paper.

Some had sketches of someone, someone who was not known. In every picture she was composed as crying in a faint manner.

"Who might this be, 'Eve'?" the girl asked, taping her foot impatiently as she threatened to tear up the thick paper. "I believe I've never met such a charm. And you compose art? Hm, I guess this world is full of surprises." she snickered, her fingers enfolding against the rim of the journal.

"I, I believe that's my sibling... she didn't live very long. She... I mean, she did live when I was a mere child and she was a young adult. But ah, she passed away. But my mother was able to save some pictures we took of her, they weren't a lot, but I use them as references. Please, may I have it back?" the pale 'Snow White'-like girl asked in the most polite manner, not wanting them to cinch what they wanted to.

"Yeah, whatever. I just said who she was, not your whole back-story. You're really stupid, aren't you? You think you can get away with lying? I know, and I quote, "Just the usual. That's all!" And for that..." the girl simpered agonizingly as she began to sheath her long, uneven fingers against the thick stack of papers that had been lined up.

The girl lifted up her head, the sight of the girl's sudden threat widening her formidable eyes. In lickety split, her arms went up, and her mouth began to hang down. And soon, her hands were reaching out as she struggled to get out of the grip, wishing that she hadn't ended up in this mess. "Please, please, miss!" her voice was sincere, desperate, even. She just wanted her brittle, decrepit voice to reach the other side.

"No! Please! Please don't tear it! Please!" the girl begged, her voice turning into a cough as her dimmed tears began to choke her. The boy kept his sturdy hand on the girl's thin, jet-black hair, making sure she wasn't going to get out of his sight. His laughs from the back discovered it's way into the girl's ears; And soon it was the same for everyone. Her sight of tears that were enough to make it corporal was a bliss of delight for everyone... except for herself. Even her once faint cries and attempts at letting out a scream that set off the pitch-black color was a sound of 'melody' to the kids' ears.

A sudden action made the girl flinch, tears falling down her freckled cheek. The pieces fell down to the tiled ground, ripped into shreds that were far too much. Her eyes followed the pattern that grew onto the sight beneath the ground. Her hands clutched together, her once a fake smile turning into gloom. The pitched girl held her snowy hands up to her rosy forehead, as her tears that she had thought stopped came showering once again.

There she stood, her mouth looking as if it had been stitched. Finally, she faltered a word, her hands moving apart.

"I'll, catch you guys tomorrow... right..."

But after the ticking of her watch, she froze, then, without a warning, she hollered. Screeched, even. In a very high-pitched voice that was like no other. The girl pulled off a conniption, her bruised knees touching against the lid of the tiled floor. Her screams echoed as she moved her hands to the strands of her hair, pulling on it slightly, finding herself leaning on her two upward theighs. "I want to be normal, I want to be normal!" She kept on repeating, again and again. Like how a record player doesn't heel, unless you were the one who would stop it. But continous moments later, she stopped herself from going any louder, and cooled herself off. She had to let out her sudden burst of asperity one way or another, or else the day would go mental.

"I'm normal. I am, I am really. I can easily draw another picture of her. I'll stand up to them one day. Not tomorrow, nor the other, but one day... I'll be able to show them what it's been like... to live in my shoes." she hiccuped, her voice creaking like a door in need to be oiled, or like the baby bird's chirp when they need to be fed.

_

I know I made a mistake...

But it was just one.

Why attack me...

Like I've done a crime?